


Indifference

by snorkmaiden



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: M/M, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4774997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snorkmaiden/pseuds/snorkmaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Tucking himself back into his pants and zipping up his trousers, he cursed the fact that this was the only room with any real privacy – he'd have to clean up the mess on the floor himself. Not that they hadn't been painted in almost every colour of bodily fluid there was, but it was still a hassle. Especially for something that had left Ocelot with such a profound sense of dissatisfaction.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indifference

**Author's Note:**

> super super huge spoilers!!!!!!!! please don't read this if you haven't finished TPP yet and don't want to be spoiled!
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> anyway. what if ocelot hadn't done a good enough job at his memory manipulation? what if.

It had been two months since Ocelot was introduced to his new boss. Two months since he'd tried to trick himself into thinking he was the real thing. Now he was flat against the interrogation room's door, Venom Snake's arms around his waist and face buried in the crook of Ocelot's neck.

“Are you sure about this?” Ocelot peeled himself away before things got too heated.

Snake didn't reply verbally, but he stared Ocelot down, holding onto his shirt and pulling the two of them back together. He was Big Boss in looks, stature, even his personality had been captured down to a tee. Around the rest of the staff on Mother Base, it was easy to keep up the façade. Ocelot's entire existence was built around bullshitting after all, but in private he couldn't quite seem to manage. Deep down he knew something was amiss, and the apprehension was only amplified when he was this close. Leaning in to light Big Boss' cigar before saying their goodbyes had felt like home, comforting and natural; Venom's hands in his hair felt anything but.

Continuing, Snake pinched Ocelot's earlobe between his teeth, breath heavy through his mouth and nose. A raise of his chin up to the left freed a small section of Ocelot's neck from his scarf, and Snake dragged teeth over the bare skin. Ocelot let out a drawn-out sigh, thinking back to the countless times he'd dreamed of scenarios like this. He thought he was over it by now. But the intense hero-worship of his youth had given way to something more insidious. Big Boss was under his skin to the point where he would gladly accept a quick fuck from a cheap copy.

They slid down to the floor, exchanging gropes and bites. Ocelot angled himself so that he could pin Snake's legs down into the cool, metal floor – allowing him the space to take off his blood-spattered shirt. A muted “fuck” escaped Snake's lips when the spurs on Ocelot's boots dug into flesh. As he ran a gloved hand down Snake's scarred chest, he marveled at just how well the plastic surgeon had done. Dents made from bullets and shrapnel scattered around the homage to the Boss. But it wasn't his own. John didn't have the same shrapnel marks, Venom hadn't inflicted the long, snaking scar on himself. 

He pushed the thoughts aside. Something to deal with at a later date. Leaning down, he met Snake in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. It felt less wrong if he closed his eyes. Facial hair scratched together when they kissed more deeply, Ocelot nipping at Snake's chapped lips. One of Snake's hands stroked over Ocelot's half-hard dick through his trousers, causing him to moan into Snake's mouth, his prosthesis held onto the arm that propped Ocelot up above him.

He shifted a leg in between Snake to let him grind his own erection up against it, but they could both tell the other was growing impatient. So Ocelot leaned back from Snake's torso, unbuttoning and removing the rest of his desert fatigues and his underwear. Taking his gloves off and tossing them aside, he rolled his sleeves up and grabbed a bottle out of his pockets - surgical lubricant he'd “borrowed” from a visit to the medical decks. He poured some of it onto his hand, popped it back in his pocket and pushed Snake's legs apart with the other, pressing a finger into him. Snake grunted and scrunched his eye closed, but didn't say to stop, so Ocelot added another and began moving them inside him, gradually stretching the muscles.

Once Snake felt ready for him he didn't even bother undressing. Just pulled down the zipper and fished out his erection from his pants, pouring more lube onto himself and pushing into Snake. He watched, waiting for a sign that he could carry on. An eye peeking open and a tiny nod gave Ocelot the signal, and he moved – slowly at first. Though every groan and sigh from Snake just incited him to drive his cock harder into him with each thrust.

“Fuck. Ocelot.” Snake's voice was a husky whisper.

Ocelot, not Adam. It sounded ridiculous – his animal namesake in such an intimate moment. Ridiculous and wrong. He didn't respond, simply continuing to thrust into Snake, tightening his hold on his hips until Snake was practically yelling his codename. Ocelot could feel himself coming close, feel his face reddening, sweat gluing hair to his forehead. 

“Oh, shit. Jo-”

He caught the wrong name before it reached its full conclusion, changing it into a throaty grunt as he finally released inside of Snake. Softly, he pulled out, wiping stray strands of hair back, away from his eyes. He watched Snake's face contort and felt his legs squeeze around him as he finished himself off. 

Snake lay in place while Ocelot stood up, eye still shut. He picked up Snake's discarded shirt and wiped himself down with it before throwing it on Snake's still heaving chest. Tucking himself back into his pants and zipping up his trousers, he cursed the fact that this was the only room with any real privacy – he'd have to clean up the mess on the floor himself. Not that they hadn't been painted in almost every colour of bodily fluid there was, but it was still a hassle. Especially for something that had left Ocelot with such a profound sense of dissatisfaction.

Once he'd cleaned himself up to a reasonable degree and pulled his trousers and boots back on, Snake peered through the tinted glass to check if the coast was clear. He shared a quick glance and strained smile with Ocelot before he left the room without a word. For Snake, this was merely an inconsequential lapse of judgement that likely wouldn't happen again, nor would it linger long in his thoughts. The same could not be said for Ocelot – he'd have to wedge in some extra memory training sessions into his already packed schedule. He pulled a hand down his face, sinking back onto the floor, and a crushing dread gripped his stomach.

_This was a mistake. He's not John, he never will be._

**Author's Note:**

> i've been playing tpp for 10 days straight and i am a mess. thank you for reading <3


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